Three Little Words
by robspace54
Summary: Our fate can swing on a very slender thread.


**Three Little Words**

by robspace54

**The characters, places and situations of **_**Doc Martin,**_** are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story places no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**This short story takes place just after the end of Doc Martin Series 8, Episode 8. **

**Spoiler alert!**

**If you have not seen the Series 8 finale, then read no further. This is my final warning!**

Louisa peered at me across our kitchen table. "Just what did Professor Langdon say? _Exactly_?" she asked. "You were very terse in the car, when I asked you on the way home from the hearing."

James was in bed after his supper and we'd just finished a late meal. "Not much," I answered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I pressed my lips together.

Her green eyes took on a more concerned look. "It must be worrying." She sighed. "If it was me… well… I _am_ more emotional than you. I'd be all a fright."

Langdon had been a hard, but not harsh, teacher. Exacting, but not unkind. There was little room for error in vascular surgery. Just my luck that Parson got saddled with him for my review board. But still… the man _was_ qualified to pass judgment on me. I also respected him, grudgingly.

Louisa stretched her arm out and touched the back of my hand with her cool fingers. "You _are_ worried."

I ducked my head finding it trying to face her. "Yes," I muttered. That one word would suffice.

She nodded slowly. "Well, whatever it is you will just have to show them how good you are."

"It… ahem, it may be…"

"Awkward? Frightening? Challenging?"

I shook my head and pulled my hand away from hers. "It may be… difficult."

She considered that word for a moment. "Oh." She shook her head. "So, what did he say? You mentioned some sort of a reviewer."

"I imagine they will send another doctor to examine, or review, my actions."

She cocked her head to one side and grinned at me. "Doesn't sound so bad."

I muttered to her, "_Quis custodiet ipsos custodes_."

"Wot?"

"Latin; attributed to Juvenal from 100 AD. 'Who watches the watchers.' "

"I see. So, this other doctor, will be _watching_ you. Making notes – that sort of thing."

I took a deep breath. "That sort of thing."

She smiled. "I have faith in you."

At least someone did.

"The whole village will be behind you," she added. "After all…"

I cut her off. "Like that idiot Penhale?"

"He was only helping, or thought he was. And you know Joe…"

"Humph. Some help."

Louisa stood up and came around the table. She crouched down, putting her face inches from mine. "You'll be fine." Her fingers touched the back of my head and then began to stroke my neck. "You've got your job and the surgery can open again."

"Chris Parsons told me this other doctor will arrive Monday week after next."

"Who is it? Do you know them?"

"He didn't give me a name. I find it extremely unlikely that it would be anyone I know."

"That makes perfect sense," she said, then she kissed my cheek, as her fingers continued to rub the back of my neck. "You can do this Martin. I _know_ you can."

My nose was pressed against her cheek and I could smell the faint scent of her perfume (Kenzo Flower), her shampoo and conditioner, and her lipstick. If only a kiss and the fervent belief of your spouse could fix this… mess. No, _my_ mess.

Langdon's message could be broken into three words. Prof. Langdon had told me, "Monitor. Improvement. Soon." He'd also said, "I too have a duty of care. I was reminded you are wasted down here."

Wasted? I hoped not.

_Monitor_: I'd be watched and commented on. No doubt all written up in a bloody thick report.

_Improvement_: I must overcome my blood phobia. How? I had the meditation tapes, and Ruth has given me a few books on mental discipline. As if having the discipline to thread a catheter into your wife's brain isn't disciplined enough.

_Soon_: As in soonest. Timetable to be determined, but sooner is better than later. So, as little as a few weeks, perhaps. Maybe as little as a month. Oh God.

Three words. Just three little words to determine my fate as a doctor – GP or any kind at all.

I sighed, as the mountain ahead of me loomed taller in my mind.

Louisa pulled me closer, pressing against me. "I love you."

"Yes, I know."

"Don't you worry," she said into my ear. "You'll be fine."

More three-word phrases.

I sighed into her ear. "Perhaps."

**The End**


End file.
